


In The Lonely Hour

by BritBojangles



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritBojangles/pseuds/BritBojangles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the Spatula Guy situation and what I believe really happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Lonely Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe Spatula Guy was someone of any significance.

Oliver stepped out of the shower. The water had long since gone cold but he did not care. He hadn’t cared for a while now. Kicking Connor out had taken a toll on him. He thought they were going somewhere. He thought they meant something. They didn’t, not to Connor at least. Oliver found that out the hard way. 

Unlike in time’s past, Oliver had allowed himself the tiniest bit of freedom to dream. Connor had stuck around past the honeymoon sex and they were entering the couple’s sex phase of what Oliver hoped would blossom into an actual relationship. It was the little things that allowed him that hope, that gave him that license to dream. 

The way Connor sprawled out on what he’d deemed his side of the bed. 

The toothbrush he kept in the bathroom. (It was a travel toothbrush but Oliver wasn’t picky.)

The fact that Connor insisted that Oliver set an alarm on his phone labeled ‘Wake Connor up’. 

It was those little things that persuaded Oliver to let his guard down. As the days went by and Connor stuck around, Oliver slipped off his protective armour and allowed himself to believe that he was the one that would get the guy. He was the one that woke up with a smile on his face, rather than a crick in his neck from falling asleep during a game of World of Warcraft. He marvelled in the fact that he was the one that woke up cuddled next to a gorgeous guy, rather than the guy cuddled with his well worn copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. A rush of excitement washed over Oliver each time he thought about how much his life had changed in the short time that he’d know Connor. Then, just like that, it was gone. Like magic his life was just as it had been. 

For the first few days, Oliver wondered if it had all been a dream. Had his mind conjured Connor up to fill the man sized void in his life? Was there a Connor at all or was he so lonely that his mind fabricated a man to keep him sane? That thought alone sent Oliver’s heart plummeting towards the center of the Earth. Was he that pathetic?

No. Connor was real. The fist sized dent in Oliver’s heart told him so. He had never felt a punch to the chest quite like the one executed by Connor’s actions. It was sloppy and unplanned but it got the job done. It struck Oliver right in his feelings. Then, to add insult to injury, Connor tried to justify his actions by reassuring him that it was ‘just sex’ and that he ‘actually’ liked Oliver. 

Oliver wished he could say things like that. The words never rolled nicely off his tongue, however. They always tasted bitter and a bit too emotional. Each and every single time something was supposed to be ‘just sex’ it turned into an emotional rollercoaster of epic proportions for him. What could he say? He liked the idea of romance. He liked the idea of finding a prince. Better yet, he liked the idea of the frog turning into a prince and then finding love. That idea gave him hope. In his eyes he was a frog and Connor was his prince. They were a fantasy in his head and Connor’s ‘just sex’ was the gust of wind that swept Oliver out of Oz and back to Kansas. 

Oliver looked at himself in the mirror. Who had he been kidding? His own good sense should have been enough to bring him back to reality. He was smart enough to know that a guy like Connor could never really love a guy like him. Connor was perfect. Literally! His hair always feel just right, his body was phenomenal, and his personality….he could talk the panties off a grandmother without breaking a sweat. Connor was a total package and Oliver….wasn’t. 

Even without his glasses Oliver knew that he wasn’t a looker. One of his eyes was a bit larger than the other, his teeth were large and a bit crooked in front, and his body was….okay. He wasn’t anything special and Connor’s indiscretion reminded him of that. The very idea of Connor going elsewhere for sex, despite the fact that Oliver made himself readily available, reminded the I. T. that guys like Connor didn’t fall for guys like him. Despite Connor’s claims that the guy that played him was ‘just sex’, Oliver was left to wonder if he had been the ‘just sex’ aspect of their relationship. Before leaving the bathroom, Oliver decided that he had been and that hurt just as bad that night as it had each and every night prior. 

x

Oliver pulled on a shirt as he walked barefoot through his apartment. He could hear a commotion in the kitchen, the sound of bacon sizzling in a pan despite the fact that it was nearly midnight. 

“Bacon? This late?” He asked as he stepped through the threshold into his apartment’s tiny kitchen. 

David, his nearest and dearest friend, turned to face him. “Bacon makes everything better, my friend.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and made his way to the fridge. He opened it and looked inside. It was bare with the exception of a carton of eggs, soy milk, and a few beers.He grabbed two before closing the appliance. “I’m sure.” He replied in disbelief as he set the beverages down on the counter. 

David made a disapproving tutting sound from his spot in front of the stove. “I’ve been your best friend since those guys tied you to that goal post in high school and left you. After all these years together do you think I would lie to you?” 

Oliver smiled to himself as he opened the beers. He set one next to his friend before hopping up on the countertop opposite the stove and watching his friend cook. The question was rhetorical. Of course David wouldn’t lie to him. They were best friends. That was the entire reason David was in his apartment. After a few days of sulking, Oliver decided that he needed a familiar face to cheer him up. His first choice was David. They had shared the burden of each other’s breakups since sophomore year at Price Charter High School. 

David, like the great friend he was, immediately took off from his job and caught the first train from New Haven to Philadelphia. He camped out on Oliver’s couch, making him dinner and letting him talk through his feelings. Not once did he judge his friend for falling so hard, so fast and he made it his mission to make sure his friend knew he was a catch. Truth be told, Oliver was very, very fortunate to have him. 

“Thank you for coming here and being with me.” Oliver stated seemingly out of the blue. David was turning their bacon with his spatula as his friend spoke. “It means the world to me that you’d still drop everything for me. I owe you one.” 

David shot an eye roll over his shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything...at least not right now. This is something friends do! They support one another and help one another out. You’ve done it for me a million times; this is just me paying you back.” 

“Well...I do appreciate it. It’s nice to have someone around right now that cares.” 

“Glad to be of service.” David replied as he turned back to the food he was making. 

x

Once the bacon was finished and Oliver was able to scrounge up enough half a tomato and lettuce for BLTs, the two sat down on his couch and enjoyed their sandwiches in front of the television. Oranges Is The New Black was on and both men were equally hooked. 

During Healy’s attempted bonding with Mr. Caputo, Oliver heard something that startled him. He jumped back, instinctively, nearly dropping his sandwich. 

“Did you hear that?” He asked, no longer paying attention to his sandwich or his food. Just after the words left his mouth he heard the sound again. It sounded like someone had run into the wall just outside his apartment. 

David did not reply immediately. Instead he put his head down and hoped against hope that there was nothing - or no one- outside of the apartment, where the sound was coming from. The sound happened again. This time Oliver put his sandwich down and made his way to his feet. 

“Wait.” David said, reaching his hand out to grab his friend. “It’s probably just a drunk neighbor, do you really want to get into that right now?” 

Oliver thought this over for a moment before decided that he did not. Most of his building was somehow related to the college and most were pretentious classicists that could not believe that he was making a career for himself off a community college degree after being raised by dirt poor immigrant parents. Oliver sat back down and picked his sandwich back up. 

Just before taking a bite, he turned to his friend. “I wonder if it’s the same jerk that you had to send away while I was in the shower. I couldn’t hear what you guys were saying but you slammed the door pretty hard when you walked back inside so I imagine he frustrated you.” 

David’s tan cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of red. “It may be. Who knows.” He squeaked before turning his attention back to the television. 

‘Yeah, who knows.’ He thought to himself as he prayed that it wasn’t Connor in the hallway running into the walls. Oliver had been through enough because of the guy and David just wanted the man out of his friend’s life. By any means necessary.


End file.
